


Mea Huna

by Planty



Series: You and I [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-25 00:29:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/633173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Planty/pseuds/Planty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Usually, Danny can put 2 and 2 together but in this situation, putting 2 and 2 together would equal ‘my friends are fucking lunatics and possibly in a cult’.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mea Huna

Danny knows something is up.

He knows there’s something weird going on. Knows there’s a reason Jackson  _died_ and then came miraculously back to life. Knows there’s a reason for Isaac sneaking out in the dead of night. Knows that there is something going on with the people around him.

He just doesn’t know what.

Some things are a little bit bizarre, odd enough to make something in Danny itch uncomfortably. Like the fact that Isaac is living with ‘Cousin Miguel’ – only Cousin Miguel is actually called Derek and is of no relation to Stiles. When Danny mentioned this to Stiles, Stiles had awkwardly flailed and began mumbling crap about pet names and distant relations and the weather. When Danny mentioned it to Isaac, Isaac had just cocked his head sweetly, said ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about’ and then been wonderfully distracting in all the good ways.

The final straw is when he and Isaac are happily curled up on the couch, half watching a crappy zombie movie, but mostly doing some deliciously teasing kissing and yeah, Danny’s still a teenager so he’ll allow himself the cliché of mindlessly dry humping on the couch, thank you very much.

And then a wolf howls somewhere outside, and Isaac practically drags Danny up by the scruff.

“Stay here,” Isaac snarls, all trace of sweetness and tenderness gone. He bundles Danny upstairs and into his room. “Don’t move until I come back.”

“Isa - ”

“ _Don’t,”_ Isaac hisses, “ _leave. This. Room.”_

And with that he stalks off, leaving Danny flopped onto the bed he’d unceremoniously been shoved onto.

_What the fuck?_

Straightening up with a frown, Danny stridee across the room and peered out his window. He can faintly make out the silhouette of Isaac charging full pelt into the dark thicket of the woods. He waits, fidgeting nervously for a few minutes. There’s no movement from the trees but another howl shrieks out, followed by another and another.

Wolves. In California. Furthermore, in the woods which Isaac just ran into.

The thing is, after another project – to which ‘cousin Miguel’  _wasn’t_ invited – Danny saw Stiles’ internet search history. And it wasn’t as traumatising as he thought.

Instead, it was just –  _weird._

Lycanthropy seemed to be a major theme. Wolfsbane. Ebay auctions for bags of mountain ash. Message boards about the supernatural. Usually, Danny can put 2 and 2 together but in  _this_ situation, putting 2 and 2 together would equal ‘my friends are fucking lunatics and possibly in a cult’.

But whatever this weird, messed up thing is, Isaac’s tangled pretty deep in it. So Danny seizes his jacket and jogs downstairs. The night is freezing cold and his breath comes out in frosted huffs as he heads straight for the howl echoed woods, feet slithering on damp mud and dead leaves.

It’s pitch black.

Danny runs a hand across gnarled tree barks and squints into the murk, following the sound of snarling and yipping. He must be insane, really, but Isaac is involved in something deeply weird and honestly? Danny loves him too much to let anything happen to him.

Not that he’s told him yet.

“Isaac?” He whispers in the blackness, “Isaac? Seriously, this is messed up. Just come back.”

A growl tears out from behind him. Before Danny can react. Can move. Before he can even turn round, he’s plummeting the floor.

* * *

 “Get Isaac –  _get Isaac!”_

Stiles?

Danny tries to move, but something presses him down. He gasps as pain darts through his leg. It’s surreal, unlike any pain he’d felt before, it seems to seer into his bones, and if he had to energy to scream, he would.

Instead he can only groan pathetically.

“Hey Danny-boy, stay awake, okay? Open your eyes – yeah, seriously, ‘cause you’re kinda – Scott, throw me that bag – no, no, don’t close your eyes.  _Open,_ yeah? C’mon dude, you’re smarter than this. Open is opposite of closed.”

Danny wrenches his eyes open and immediately wishes he hadn’t.

There’s something lying to his left. He doesn’t know what it is – it could be a person, but it’s huge and twisted, muscles in thick mounded profile. He blinks again and sees blood smothered all over the thing, deep chunks torn from it. Standing over the creature is Scott and Derek. Looming over Danny is Stiles, his pale face flecked with blood.

“You’re okay,” Stiles says confidently, “kinda messed up, but in the grand scheme of things, you’re like, the third least messed up thing I’ve seen this week, which is actually a big deal. Congrats.”

Danny groans. There’s a whimper from somewhere and Stiles bites his lip.

“He’s fine,” Stiles says to someone. “he’s –  _Danny, seriously, eyes open –_ he’s okay. Just a bit scratched. Derek and Scott took it down before any real damage could be done.”

Danny flits his eyes open again and a familiar face stares back down at him, face pinched with concern. Danny blinks hard, sparks erupting beneath his eyelids and looks again.

Isaac is drenched in blood.

“Isaac,” Danny croaks, hand reaching out to trace the deep gouges on Isaac’s arm. Isaac waves him away, wincing slightly.

“Don’t. It’s fine.”

“But - ”

“I’m fine,” Isaac bites out, a thin trickle of blood dripping from his brow and over his eye. He swipes it away and presses harder onto the sticky-sore gash on Danny’s leg. Danny watches the gouges on Isaac’s arm, his head swimming with nausea and pain. He can’t think straight, the throb of his leg is overwhelming and he thinks he’s going to pass out.

The gouges look like they’re shrinking, closing and covering themselves is a shiny pink skin. Danny stares agape as Isaac slowly heals before him.

“Danny, we’re gonna help you stand, okay?”

Danny thinks he nods. He doesn’t quite know.

“Right, three, two - ”

He feels his body being lifted, legs scrambling beneath him. Scott supports one side, his cheek covered in the weird newly-pink skin and Isaac is clinging to the other as they stumble across the wet slicked floor of the woods.

No one talks until they reach the charred remnants of a house.

“Home sweet home, right Der-der?” Stiles says cheerfully. Derek scowls. Danny wants to ask what’s going on, but he’s pretty sure if he opens his mouth, he’ll puke. Besides, even his thoughts are slurred in a hazy blur, so the chances of forming a coherent sentence are nil.

“Right,” Scott hauls Danny over the threshold, “sit down.”

Danny collapses onto a patchy couch, wincing as his leg catches on the damp fabric of his jeans. Stiles briefly cups his face, “I think you have a concussion.” He says with a grimace. “But you’ll be okay. Trust me, I’ve been there a few  _thousand_ times.” He aims this last part at Derek, who rolls his eyes.

Stiles retracts his hands and winces slightly. Scott frowns.

“You okay, man?”

“Think we need to worry about Danny right now.”

Derek slips from the shadows and seizes Stiles’ hands. Stiles yelps in pain at the sudden contact, “dude! That hurts!”

Derek growls – yeah,  _growls –_ minutely and squeezes Stiles’ wrist. Threads of black seep between them, coiling up arms and flowing freely.

Oh yeah. Danny is definitely concussed. Or maybe he tripped on a tree root, passed out and hallucinated the whole evening.

Its then that Isaac falls to his knees – and admittedly, Danny usually  _loves_ the sight of that – but Isaac is clutching at Danny’s leg, fingers prodding into the sore gashes as black threads lace up to him. The pain feels like its draining away and Danny can’t even summon up the sense to ask  _why_ and lets himself be pulled into the soothing lull of a blissful, dreamless sleep.

* * *

 “You know, you’re not supposed to sleep with a concussion.”

Danny blearily opens one eye. Stiles is sitting cross legged on a rickety coffee table, a roll of bandage in hand, “this might hurt.” He says, pressing down on Danny’s bare leg seconds later.

Danny realises he’s not wearing pants.

He also realises that what happened last night  _wasn’t a dream._

“I - ” he rubs a bruise on his forehead, “what?”

“’What’ what?” Stiles gently dabs at a gash.  

“Just –  _what,”_ Danny decides to settle for one of his most important questions. “Where’s Isaac?”

“Out with Derek and company, finishing what he started and I imagine getting some wolfy revenge on account of - ” Stiles gestures to him, “ – you know.”

“Wolfy revenge?”

“Oh come on,” suturing Danny’s leg with surprising proficiency, Stiles grins, “you must have figured it out by now. Clues must be everywhere.”

“Well, yeah, I researched it. But - ”

“But?” Stiles repeats, eyebrows raised.

“ – But … the thing that came up the most is just ridiculous, I mean, come on,” he glances up to Stiles, gauging a reaction, “ _werewolves.”_

“Bingo.”

Danny stares for a while, and then laughs, shaking his head, “no.”

“No?”

“There has to be a more - ” Danny gesticulates desperately, “ –  _logical_ explanation.”

“Sorry Spock, no logic. Just wolves.”

“Right,” he rubs his eyes, wincing as his hand presses on a bruise. “So, that weird thing Isaac and Derek did with the - ” he waggles his fingers and Stiles nods.

“Yup. Werewolf mojo.”

“And you’ve suddenly turned into an ER doctor because … ?”

“I’m pretty good at fixing myself up,” he pulls a face at Danny’s alarmed look. “Don’t worry, usually we have more help with fragile human injuries but - ”

“You’re  _not_ a werewolf?”

Stiles sighs and holds out his fingers, “right, the werewolves – Derek the Alpha, and Scott who kinda sorta begrudgingly joined after this whole mess with a rival pack, there’s Jackson - ”

Danny clenches his jaw.

“ – and Isaac,” the clench tightens, “Boyd and Erica.” Stiles bites his lip thoughtfully, “we also have honorary pack humans.”

Danny reclines onto the couch. His leg is starting to throb with pain again, but he’s got too many questions buzzing around him, each bundling out, trying to overtake each other in their desperation to be answered.

“Can you just start from the beginning?” Danny asks, rubbing his jaw. Stiles scrunches his face up as if to decide when this clusterfuck of supernatural insanity started. Danny supposes it’s kind of a big ak, yet eventually, Stiles scootches in his seat and clears his throat -

“So, me and Scott were out and looking for a body – well,  _half_ a body … ”

* * *

 It took a while, but Danny was now completely up to date with the werewolf fuckery. (albeit still mildly concussed)

“So what next? We’re all gonna pile into the Mystery Machine and solves crimes and unmask ghosts?”

Stiles snorts and holds out Danny’s pants for him to wriggle into (seriously, who took those off?), “I’m meant to get you home.”

Home. Right. Normality and comfort and a fridge full of snacks and –

“Can you drop me off at Isaac’s instead?”

Because Danny’s a sensible guy and he has a boyfriend who’s ass he may or may not have to kick. The decision hasn’t quite been made.

“Um," staggering slightly as Danny uses him as a crutch, Stiles shrugs, the movement jolting soreness Danny didn’t even know was there. “I guess I can.”

They reach the Jeep. As Stiles rifles in his pocket for keys, Danny leans on the door, watching the orange filtered dawn is seep through trees. Beyond the sweet trills of morning bird songs, a wolf’s howl can be heard. Stiles looks up and the noise and grins grimly.

“Come on guys, it doesn’t take that long to reap furry vengeance.”

Danny doesn't reply, too busy trying to zone in on the howls which seems to grow in distance each time they shriek out. He remembers what must be  _hours_ ago, wanting desperately to know what was going on in his weird little town.

He’s not too sure he’s happier knowing.

* * *

The apartment is empty when Stiles and Danny reach it. Stiles lingers for a while, bringing out food that goes uneaten and drinks that are left to go cold. When the watery sunlight begins to seep in, he mumbles something about not wanting to worry his dad and disappears.

Danny guesses Stiles is used to the Pack (that word still feels unfamiliar and alien to him) disappearing all hours, but he seemed jittery and nervous, even by his own standards. The tension is infectious. When dawn is fully broken and Isaac still hasn’t come back, Danny finds himself acting nearly as twitchy and restless as Stiles.

He doesn’t know if Derek and Isaac will appreciate him reorganising the food cupboards and alphabetising the DVD rack, but since the alternative was like,  _tearing his own skin off,_ it's probably the lesser of two evils.

Midday. Danny scrubs out the bathroom, aware he’s probably crossing some sort of line. He doesn’t care as much as he should.

Afternoon. Isaac isn’t back. Danny tidies Isaac’s closet and realises most of his own clothes are nestled comfortably amongst the familiar, faded clothes.

Evening. Isaac isn’t back. Danny stays in Isaac’s room and attempts to track his phone. He nearly ends up hurling the laptop across the room in frustration, until the front door creaks.

“It reeks of chemicals in here,” Derek growls. Danny slumps onto the bed, defeated.

“Danny cleans when he’s stressed.”

Isaacs voice is sudden and tired sounding, Danny nearly falls off the bed with the speed he straightens up.

“I need to go check - ”

Danny hastily rearranges himself as the bedroom door clicks open and Isaac slips in. He closes it behind him and pads over to the bed.

“Hi,” he mutters, crawling the sit next to Danny. It’s such and mundane and ordinary greeting for such a fucked up situation and Danny wants to laugh. Instead, he sighs.

“Hi.”

“Are you … okay?”

“Mhm. You?”

“Fine.”

Derek is muttering in the living room and Danny gets the distinct impression he’s off the Christmas card list. Though someone like Derek doesn’t exactly do Christmas cards, so it’s more like Danny’s off the list of ‘people Derek Hale just about tolerates’.

“Territory thing,” Isaac explains quietly as Derek curses again. “The bleach is too strong. He’ll calm down in a minute.”

“Sorry,” Danny says, because he’s clearly made some sort of werewolf faux-pas.

“You didn’t mean it, s’fine.”

“Right.”

Things have never been awkward between Isaac and Danny, yet right then, it's nothing but. He clears his throat.

“So.”

“So?”

“Werewolves.”

Isaac slowly closes his eyes, “yeah.” He repeats wearily. “werewolves.”

“I think I have my head around it,” Danny says into the constricting silence. “Most aspects anyway … I mean, honestly? I’ve kind of wondered but never really thought about it because it’s just so – I mean, my boyfriend is a werewolf, my best friend was apparently once a lizard thingy _,_ and now he’s  a werewolf, most of the guys I play Lacrosse with are – yeah.”

Isaac shuffles closer to Danny and lays a tentative hand on his shoulder, “I was going to tell you, soon." He hunches his shoulders as if to shield himself from his own frustration, "it’s just, like, for me, Pack means family and safety and  _you_ mean family and safety and,” he pauses, “and love. I have to see my Pack hurt on what’s fast becoming a weekly basis. I can’t see you like  _that_ again. It kind of killed me.”

“So keeping me in the dark was the safest option?” Danny doesn’t even bother to hide the bite from his tone. Isaac snorts humourlessly.

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Oh yeah? Because being paralysed and not knowing how wasn’t exactly a barrel of laughs. Having my best friend die and then - ”

“ - and seeing you get rip to shreds by a rogue wolf wasn’t exactly the highlight of my week,” Isaac snaps back.

“Fine then. Tell me you haven’t had worse injuries,” Danny hisses. Isaac falters slightly.

“That’s different, I heal,” he clenches his fists. “Listen. It’s  _all_ different for me. I heal. I can defend myself. I know what we’re fighting and I can fight it! You’re human.”

There’s a fury tinged silence settling around them. Danny can still hear Derek pacing around the living room.

“How’s your leg?” Isaac asks after a while.

“Better.”

“Tell me if it hurts.”

It does, but Danny doesn’t admit it. Isaac seems to read his mind, however, and wraps a hand around the worst part. Danny watches the black seeping away, remaining silent until the last few dregs of pain drip off. The hands withdraw, but the warmth stays. 

“Thanks,” Danny whispers, hand sliding out to capture Isaac’s.

Isaac squeezes his hand absently, “any time.”

The words are gentle, but he looks troubled – angry, even.

“Why couldn’t you have  _stayed_  where I told you to _?”_ he mutters after a while, clenching Danny’s hand a little too hard. Danny stiffens indignantly.

“Because I was worried!”

Isaac quells, his expression softening to the familiar sweetness that Danny has grown to adore.

“Don’t worry about me, idiot.”

“Can’t help it. It’s kind of a  _thing_ when you love someone. You tend to worry about their little habit of sneaking off into deep, dark woods in the middle of the night.”

Isaac blinks, “did you just say you love me?”

It’s probably the least romantic profession of love there ever was, yet Isaac’s staring as if Danny showered him with roses and wrote their names in the stars.

“Don’t change the subject.”

“But really. Did you?”

Any trace of anger is gone. Their argument seems to be tearing away from them, the last few spindly tendrils of fury slipping through Danny’s fingers as he watches Isaac lick his lips in anticipation.

“You said it first!” Danny retorts after a while. Isaac smirks.

“It’s not a competition. And I think you’ll find I actually said you ‘mean’ safety and love.”

“But it’s the same sentiment, right?”

Isaac cocks his head, frowning, “are you really this paranoid?”

Danny shrugs, “a little sincerity and stability would be nice.”

This time, Isaac’s lips twitch into a full smile, “of course it’s the same sentiment. And of course I love you.  - happy?”

“Happy,” Danny confirms, combing a hand through Isaac’s thoroughly mussed curls. Sure, he’s just found out his town is invested with werewolves and yeah, his best friend did the whole ‘rising from the grave’ thing and maybe his life is now in some sort of mortal peril.

But he has Isaac by his side, werewolf, haunted, still-a-tiny-bit-broken Isaac who he  _loves_ and who loves Danny in return and really, Danny is happy to be in a messed up world if it means being with him. 

**Author's Note:**

> I post Mahealahey ficlets on tumblr, so if you want have a read, have a look at the tag or follow me on [my tumblr](http://plantolio.tumblr.com/)  
> (What's more, isn't Mahealahey the cutest ship name in the world?)


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